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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29893980">Galas Are Not Fun</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueKappa/pseuds/BlueKappa'>BlueKappa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Peter and the Tower [35]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Overstimulation, Parent Pepper Potts, Pepper Potts Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Sensory Overload, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:42:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,512</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29893980</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueKappa/pseuds/BlueKappa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter goes to a gala with Tony and Pepper. He gets overwhelmed, and Tony can't help him out.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker &amp; Pepper Potts, Peter Parker &amp; Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Peter and the Tower [35]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1220861</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>253</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Galas Are Not Fun</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoMama2001/gifts">DracoMama2001</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hope you like it, DracoMama2001! Thanks for helping me figure out the issue with my username.</p><p>TW: Sensory Overload, Anxiety attack symptoms</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Peter hated galas. </p><p> </p><p>They were full of rich people who only cared about themselves. When Peter was occasionally forced to go, it was hell. He was either bored out of his mind or awkwardly tried to stick close to Pepper and Tony.</p><p> </p><p>Usually, he stuck around Tony. Usually, Tony didn’t mind Peter trailing behind him or pulling his sleeve towards the food. Usually, they hid in the corners of the room, sipping sparkling cider and hiding from Pepper. Usually, Pepper was the one mingling and networking, only shooting them a disapproved look every now and then.</p><p> </p><p>But this gala wasn’t usual. </p><p> </p><p>This gala was <em> Tony’s </em>. And yes, most of them were technically Tony’s but this was a gala for the Maria Stark Foundation. Tony wanted everything to go smoothly and would be running the show tonight instead of Pepper.</p><p> </p><p>And that left Peter alone, without his rock.</p><p> </p><p>MJ and Harley had both gotten out of it. How? Peter didn’t know. Granted, it was a minor gala, not the huge annual one, but Peter was still jealous of them.</p><p> </p><p>He was dressed in his fanciest suit, sitting uncomfortably next to Tony in the car. Peter pulled the collar slightly to relieve the tightness of his neck. It didn't help. The car parked and the dread of being alone at one of these awful galas really hit him.</p><p> </p><p>“You look very dashing, Peter,” Pepper said, pressing a kiss to his forehead as they exited the car. He nodded at her, shooting her his own tight smile, and held his hand out for her like a gentleman. She took it with a wink, and stepped out of the car, looking like the goddess she was. </p><p> </p><p>Tony took Pepper’s hand, giving both his wife and son a genuine smile before trudging up the stairs past the vultures with the flashing cameras. Peter tried not to wince at the light, focusing straight ahead at the looming doors. Security let them inside without a second glance. </p><p> </p><p>“Alright, kiddo, let’s mingle,” Tony said, adjusting the cuffs of his suit ever so slightly. Peter nodded, clenching his fists to cope with his growing nerves. Tony was right there. He wouldn't let anything bad happen to Peter or leave Peter alone. Probably. There was no need to be nervous. Tony placed a gentle hand on his back and led him to the main area where groups of people were talking.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, Mr. Weisman!”</p><p> </p><p>Tony immediately engaged in a conversation with this man, keeping a hand on Peter’s back. It was uncomfortable. Peter didn’t know Mr. Weisman and didn’t know what they were talking about. Tony introduced him at some point in the conversation, and Peter had given a half-hearted 'nice to meet you,' but it was getting harder to focus on the duo’s voices the longer the conversation droned on. Everything was getting louder. All of the sounds mashed into one horrible cacophony of sound around him.</p><p> </p><p>Peter dug his fingernails into his palms and grit his teeth. He was fine. They had just got to the gala. Don’t think about how everything sounds like one loud mass yet so individual. Don't think about the whispers of the people in the corners of the room ringing in his head so clearly. Don’t think about how blinding the ceiling lights had gotten or how the individual fibers of the waiter’s vest were so clearly visible-</p><p> </p><p>“Bathroom,” Peter mumbled and quickly ducked out from Tony’s arm. It sounded like Tony had said something behind him, but Peter couldn’t hear it over the beating in his head.</p><p> </p><p>He stumbled out of the main room, through the hall, and pushed open a random door. The room was thankfully abandoned and Peter could only sob in relief as he slid to the floor against the wall. The room may have been quiet, but he could still hear <em> everything </em> happening in the main room. Security was welcoming in guests, there was a couple flirting and sipping their champagne obnoxiously, and the nauseating smell of food that was hundreds of feet away as waiters walked around with large plates.</p><p> </p><p>He slammed his hands into his ears and let out a desperate sob. It was all too much. He didn’t even know what triggered it. Everything had been fine! And now here he was, sitting alone in an abandoned room.</p><p> </p><p>Completely overwhelmed.</p><p> </p><p>Wishing someone or something could help him get relief from the pain.</p><p> </p><p>A knock at the door startled him. It was too close, too loud, he screamed into his arm. No one could see him like this! The door creaked open, like nails on a chalkboard.</p><p> </p><p>“Peter?”</p><p> </p><p>He ducked his head further into his knees. As if that could stop the noise or at least drown it out.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, honey, what happened?”</p><p> </p><p>Pepper crouched in front of him, her voice a whisper yet still too much, too much, too much-</p><p> </p><p>He sobbed and shook his head. </p><p> </p><p>“Are you having a sensory overload?”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded. Please, he needed help. Someone help him.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m here, baby. We’re going to get through this.”</p><p> </p><p>Peter's vision went white for a second when her knee accidentally brushed against him. He flinched violently, curling further in on himself.</p><p> </p><p>“Mom,” he slurred. “I wanna go home.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know sweet boy, I know. The car's being pulled around the back, okay? I just need you to calm down before I take you into the hall.”</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head, frustrated and drowning in <em> everything. </em> “Please, <em> please. </em> I wanna go home. I want Dad.”</p><p> </p><p>Tears erupted from his eyes. He couldn’t handle this. His head was going to burst. Pepper reached out to him. He could tell. He could practically feel the warmth of her hand inches from his arm. But she hesitated and pulled her hand away.</p><p> </p><p>“I know everything hurts, honey. I know it’s all so overwhelming and it’s not fair.”</p><p> </p><p>Peter sniffled and nodded. Pepper was right, <em> it wasn’t fair </em>. He didn’t want to feel this way. Would he have these episodes for the rest of his life? In complete and utter pain. People would get sick of him, he was sick of him. He selfishly hoped they stayed, it’s so much harder to deal with overloads alone.</p><p> </p><p>He sobbed lightly at the thoughts and pounding headache forming behind his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“For us to make this situation better, I need you to take some deep breaths first okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Peter nodded frantically, even though the motion made him dizzy, and tried to follow her slow breathing. It came out hitched and hiccuped. Over the thudding of his heart and her perfume, it was hard to focus.</p><p> </p><p>She smiled at him, soft and determined. “That’s it. You’re doing good, Peter.”</p><p> </p><p>She continued taking deep, slow breaths, and he focused on it. Allowing her breathing to ground him and guide him. Slowly, achingly slow, the chatter quieted. The smells of everyone’s perfume and sweat faded. The terrible itching from his suit decreased. He wiped his wet eyes and stared down at his knees, face flushed in embarrassment.</p><p> </p><p>“You ready to go home? Tony will meet us there later,” her voice only held care and warmth, but Peter couldn’t help the pit of guilt in his stomach.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry,” he whispered.</p><p> </p><p>“You have nothing to apologize for, Peter,” she said confidently as she stood up and held out a hand for him. He bit his lip, still feeling unsure and sensitive, but took it and launched himself into her arms.</p><p> </p><p>Pepper caught him easily. She stroked his hair gently, making sure to keep her touch light in order not to trigger him again. This was nice. He rested his head against her shoulder, allowing this moment of relative peace to wash over him. He was exhausted now that the sensory overload had passed. “Let’s go home.”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded slowly and allowed her to let go of him and grab his hand. The halls were quiet but closer to the main room, and louder than the previous room they were in. Peter took deep breaths, focusing on Pepper’s hand in his and not throwing himself into another overload. He stumbled over his feet, not able to ignore the fatigue that comes post-overload.</p><p> </p><p>The wind and cold of the outdoors hit his face as they stepped outside. It was refreshing. Much better than the heat that came with overloads. The car door opened, and Peter climbed in. The car was quiet but everything, even the outside noise, faded until there was absolute dead silence when Pepper secured his noise-canceling headphones on his head. Huh, she or Tony must have left a pair for him in the car in case something did happen. Peter slumped in relief against Pepper’s shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>He was <em> tired </em>. A little nap on the way back home wouldn’t be bad. Besides, it was hard to resist the lull of sleep, especially with Pepper’s arm around his shoulders. He blinked slowly until he couldn’t keep his eyes open, drifting off with the warm presence of his mom at his side, and her hand running through his hair.</p><p><br/>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Will I call Pepper a goddess in every single fic I write? Yes, yes I will.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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